Saturday, October 9, 2010
So, it's a saturday morning, and here's what I should be doing: dishes, laundry, cook for tomorrow's lunch, wrap a present for my son's friend's birthday, clean up the multitude of toys covering every surface of our house, study the sunday school lesson I am to teach tomorrow, and mop the kitchen floor - and that's only a partial list I'm sure. Somehow, today I can't quite manage it. I just don't care how the house looks. I want to curl up and read... and not just any book. I want to read something that speaks to me of myself, that clarifies who I am and what I am doing here. I want to think. Just think. Uninterrupted by my kids or the to do list. I want to sit before my father in heaven and let his spirit fill me with peace. You see, I'm on a journey. A journey that began the moment I listened, really listened to the voice that spoke the world into being. The Word that became flesh. The Word that dwells among us. The Word that makes me more myself. In His presence I am found. And I am becoming whole. But isn't it interesting how God chooses these moments? His timing is fascinating. Why would He initiate this journey just as my life became so full? Just when I'm called to give my life away to my children. In many ways, as any mother knows, my life is no longer about me. My time belongs to my family. My energy is dedicated to them. And this is good. Even as God opens my heart to himself and teaches me this path of spiritual discovery, my feet are firmly anchored in the real. The dirty dishes, the countless meals to be made, the daily instruction of my children, the bills waiting to be paid - they keep me grounded. And they remind me that even my Lord was a servant. He was no stranger to the daily necessities of earthly life. In fact, He came to inhabit the details, to dwell in the ordinary, to clean up messes, to kiss boo-boos and to pour divine love into every moment. So now I revisit my to-do list. But now I see Jesus. I see his hands, his feet, his loving care to my family. And my invitation to join him in the mess and the beauty of each moment.